


Mosquito (Diptera)

by camakitsune



Series: Insecta [3]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Blood, Fluff, Nonbinary Character, Other, Sexual Tension, Summer Festival, Vore teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camakitsune/pseuds/camakitsune
Summary: Beelzebub's chef drags out a game of vore Chicken at the summer festival. (Inspired by the "I Wish..." Devilgram story)
Relationships: Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s)
Series: Insecta [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750204
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	Mosquito (Diptera)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, this work features my he/him nonbinary OC Bea. Maybe eventually I'll write his story with Beel, but I just wanted to write something a little sweet after getting the Festival Devilgram story. Consider this a light spoiler warning for the "I Wish..." Devilgram!
> 
> For the purposes of understanding this fic, he's a human who made a pact with Beel to be his live-in chef, unrelated to any of the events of the RAD exchange (though chronologically, it's after MC returns to the human realm).

If Bea ever thought the day-to-day volume demands of feeding one Beelzebub were a challenge not for the faint of heart, working the candy apple booth for the summer festival reminded him just how cushy the “pet” chef life was in comparison to foodservice. The festival was every bit as busy outside the booth as it was inside, but without the impatient clamoring directed at him, he suddenly found it much easier to breathe, or even just hear his own thoughts.

“Feeling better?” Beel asked.

“Yeah I’m fine,” Bea answered. “Was I getting bitchy in there during that last rush?”

“We worked past our time to leave, so I figured you were getting tired.” As always, graciously cushioning his answer. “Anyway, we’re out now. And there’s so much food to try.”

He went quiet for a moment as he scanned the food stalls nearby, offering Bea some amusement at the indecision visibly taking hold of him. A light breeze blew through the thoroughfare, another little mercy of having left the stuffy candy apple booth. By now, he was grateful for Asmo’s then-questionable volunteering to wrap his chest for him. He just might have left the festival altogether if he had to deal with tit-sweat dripping down his stomach.

Less merciful was a high pitched buzzing in his ear. He swatted, and a mosquito veered in front of his face before he lost sight of it again.

“Seriously?”

“Are you okay?” Beel was looking down at him quizzically.

“I’m fine. I guess I should have figured if I’m in Hell, there’d definitely be mosquitoes.” He regarded Beel, and briefly recalled his demon’s titles. “I don’t suppose you could make them leave me alone?”

“Sorry, mosquitoes don’t like to listen to anyone. Especially when it’s about sucking blood they like.”

“Well, they _love_ me.”

“Do they? You must have sweet blood then.”

Bea raised an eyebrow at Beel, who merely smiled that placid smile down at him. Surely he of all demons would know the details of insect preferences, right? Or maybe they just did whatever he needed of them and no further questions were asked.

“What?” Beel asked, remaining innocent as ever under the silent scrutiny.

“I understood that to be a myth.”

“Is it? Should I check?”

Was he teasing? He was usually so averse to even hearing about eating Bea. Though, that topic hadn’t come up for a while now. Beel was perceptive enough to observe Bea’s initial fears of getting gobbled up as soon as he had a bad day. But where those fears had long been dispelled, Beel remained sensitive to the topic. He seemed almost playful now.

Bea liked it.

“Now we’re making scientific claims,” he answered. “If you want a sample, you should have it now, before we eat everything at this festival and skew your results.”

Beel fixed onto a particular part of that statement. “Everything?” he repeated. He assumed a palpable stillness at the prospect of getting to gorge himself, like a cat freezing to calculate its next pounce.

“Well, I didn't think you’d want to limit yourself.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page, but I still don’t know where to start. And now I’m just hungrier.”

“Hold on, I grabbed a map.” Bea retrieved it from the crossbody bag he carried. (That it matched the spider-web pattern of his yukata was another point for Asmo. Tiring as his fashion-fussing was, Bea had to credit him where it was due.)

The festival layout was regular enough to optimize a route. The less walking they had to do between food stalls, the less time Beel would spend waiting for the next sample of food. On second thought, the path wasn’t as straightforward as he thought – they were going to walk straight through a stretch of games. Maybe Beel would want to play games, now that he considered it, but it wouldn’t do to leave so much space between food booths that he might start getting hungry.

He looked up to ask Beel if he thought he’d want to play any games. He was nowhere to be found. Bea hid in the illusion of continuing to study the map. Being left unattended around Beel’s brothers was one thing. Larger gathering places, on the other hand, reminded him how deeply he depended on Beel’s protection.

He lowered the map so that it wouldn’t hide the sigil at the top of chest. He hated to play by this line of reasoning, especially thinking in Belphie’s belittling words: only a demon with a death wish would take food out of Beel’s mouth. But hating it didn’t make it any less effective at easing his anxiety.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Bea controlled himself into turning calmly. He was rewarded with the reassuring sight of Beel shoving a grilled skewer at him, his other hand grasping another dozen or so.

“I couldn’t wait anymore,” Beel said, looking bashful with a mouthful of food already muffling him.

Bea couldn’t resist a smile. “Thank you,” he said, receiving a skewer and swatting at a mosquito with the folded map.

“Did you decide what next?”

That he could clean a skewer in one motion and speak at the same time without choking was a feat worth commending. Bea wondered if he was in a playing mood again now that he had a bite to eat. He felt froggy enough to test it.

“You look so cute, maybe I should take a bite out of you.”

Beel quirked his brow as he downed the contents of another skewer. “Are you teasing me? Maybe I will end up eating you.”

“As long as it’s you, it would be the highlight of my career.” He rested the map against his chest, just beside the seal of Beelzebub embedded in his brown skin.

Beel stopped chewing for the brief moment it took for his eyes to follow the motion. He waited to swallow before he answered this time. “You know, I really might take you seriously if you keep this up.”

He wanted to. For that split second, he witnessed his big sweet patron wrestling with a demon made to devour. How much of that veneer of accommodating pleasantry did Bea have the power to chip away? Each second not knowing was going to prick under his skin. How many before it bled his restraint dry?

But for now, he had to accept the small victory and let Beel retreat. “You should never take me seriously,” he reassured before finally trying a bite his own skewer.

They followed a version of his planned route through the festival, Beel ordering some of everything from each booth – or at least, as much as he and Bea could reasonably carry with only two hands each – and Bea sampling a bite of each item Beel purchased. Some items went a little too far with the ick factor for his liking, but he steeled himself to try everything he was offered, even the foods that looked at him as he took a bite.

Beel was happy to take a break from eating to play games, to Bea’s surprise. He certainly didn’t mind Beel winning him a comically large stuffed hellhound at the high striker, nor did Beel seem to mind Bea winning him a three-pack of spider stickers with a much less impressive performance.

“You have to put one on,” he told Beel as he opened the package.

“Why’s that?” Beel asked, not following, but curious.

“It's not fair if the demon gets to give out a mark for his pacts, but the human doesn’t.” He struggled a little to get the sticker off the paper.

“So you decided your mark will be a spider?”

“I don't know what would be better for catching a fly.” He freed the sticker from the backing.

Beel shifted the stuffed hellhound he was holding for Bea, exposing the skin of his chest. “Then I guess that’s fair for you to give your mark too.”

Bea was neither brave nor tall enough to stamp it in place with his lips as Beel had done to him, so he settled for pressing a kiss onto the front of the sticker before placing it onto Beel’s chest with his hand. “There.”

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Beel said.

“Of course. I hope you’re having fun too.”

Beel nodded. “It’s funny, you have a pact with me, but it seems like whenever you’re joking around or having fun, it’s with my brothers. I thought maybe you were still afraid of me.”

Bea considered the comment. He wasn’t wrong – not about Bea’s behavior, at least. “I definitely wouldn’t say I’m afraid of you. Well. I mean, I haven’t forgotten that you’re a powerful demon who could probably kill me a hundred different ways with just one hand, but still.” This wasn’t going the direction he wanted at all. “Hold on, let me back up.”

Beel patiently gave him room to sort his thoughts and that. _That_ was it. That was what Beel gave him that others often didn’t, why he went stiff and controlled whenever he spoke to Beel to leash any unpleasant him-ness from offending his patron. Beel gave him room to think, to grow, to breathe. Bea didn’t want to run that away.

"With the others, I don’t feel like I have to impress them so much, so it’s okay to be myself a little more,” he tried. “But with you, I guess I feel like if I just stay quiet and let all my cooking speak for me, then I’m safe from saying something stupid to make you dislike me.”

“Bea.” Beel’s brow knit, and his mouth fixed into a straight line.

Bea started to worry that in admitting his fear of saying something stupid, he had done exactly that. Had he crossed a line?

“You don’t have to try to impress me to be safe.”

He smiled. “I know. That’s not what I mean. I want to impress you for its own sake.”

“Then don’t. I don’t want you to try to impress me if it means you feel like you can’t be yourself.”

“Beel, I have a pact with you. I still need to do a good job.”

“You do have a pact with me. And I want you to act the same with me as you do my brothers. I want you to stop holding back so much.” He wore a satisfied little smile at his decision, knowing he had won. How infuriating.

“You’re bringing this on yourself then,” Bea conceded.

“I think I’ll manage.” He nodded his head toward the yet-unexplored parts of the festival. “Come on. We still have more food to try.”

The break gave enough time for Bea to get a taste for something sweet. Beel spotted another candy apple booth and wanted to scope out the competition. They had chocolate dipped strawberries as well – Bea asked for those. Once they stepped from the booth with their sweets, Beel took a thoughtful taste of candy apple.

“How is it?” Bea asked after trying a milk chocolate strawberry.

“I think our candy apples are better. Want to try?”

Bea nodded and took a bite once offered. A few chews in, he answered, covering his mouth with his hand. “This flavor is spot-on.”

“You think so?”

“The texture too.”

“You know, you’re being pretty unfaithful to our candy apples.”

Bea finished his mouthful before continuing. “I’m the Avatar of Gluttony’s chef. I’m in the business of being objective about food.” He sucked at a bit of candy coating stuck to his teeth. “Their coating is smoother than ours, and the apple itself is a bit crisper. I think they probably let the coating cool too much before they dipped the apples, because it is pretty thick and it’s sticking to my teeth. It takes a while to notice it though, since the apple texture holds up really well to that thick candy coating while you're eating it.”

“I didn’t know you knew about making candy too.”

“I dabbled in it a bit before I met you. Molten sugar’s kind of a pain in the ass to work with, so it didn’t last long. Mind if I get another bite?”

Beel let him have another bite, and he followed suit to consider Bea’s evaluation. Bea, in his attempt to avoid the tooth-sticking problem by maneuvering the apple, maneuvered his tongue right into the danger zone surrounding it. He flinched with the self-inflicted bite, but Beel didn’t seem to notice. He was pretty sure he was bleeding.

“Can I try a strawberry?” Beel asked.

Bea looked down at the little tray of strawberries he held. The opportunity to hand-feed Beel was tempting. Just handing it to him would be a lot less overwhelmingly forward, but. Bea did just receive a direct request stop holding back.

He picked a dark chocolate strawberry, looked directly at Beel, and put it between his teeth.

Beel frowned. “Fine.”

Bea hummed, glanced down at the bit of strawberry at the edge of his own vision.

Beel got the message. “This is how you treat my brothers?”

It was Bea’s turn to frown. Beel didn’t hesitate any longer before dipping to receive the strawberry. Their lips only barely brushed, but the bait was planted. “I _would_ if they were you,” he corrected once his mouth was freed to speak.

Surprise flashed across Beel’s features. Without bothering to reply, he kissed Bea, hand fixed at the base of his skull, tongue snaking in to tap the source of blood on the strawberry he just ate. Bea offered it readily, pushing his tongue into Beel’s mouth.

He opened his eyes to find Beel casting a heavy-lidded stare at him. He wanted to squirm under the pressure that stare squeezed between his legs, didn’t even realize he _was_ squirming until Beel’s hand tightened at the back of his head and inadvertently pressed the end of the candy apple stick against his scalp.

Beel found the bite wound on his tongue and worried it with his own, digging at it as if trying to tear it further. It hurt. Bea whimpered against Beel’s mouth, drew a hiss out of him. It was perfect. His soul belonged to this demon. When he was gentle, and patient, when he was sated, and when he was ravenous. Bea submitted to the painful lapping at his tongue, to Beelzebub’s strength holding him in place. To his own body’s hunger, eager to devour Beel as soon as the demon would let him.

Beel jerked away abruptly, retreated from Bea’s reach and stared down slack-jawed from the safe haven of his height. “Bea, why are you bleeding?” he asked.

“I bit my tongue when I ate the apple.” The distance restored between them reminded him they were surrounded by unfamiliar demons. That fact did little to weaken Bea's desire to do that again. They probably had seen worse, or done worse, in equally public settings.

Beel blinked. “If you do that again, I can’t promise I won’t eat you.”

He nodded. “Sorry. I wasn’t totally treating you the same as your brothers.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Since it's you, I considered the flavor profile. Milk chocolate is too sweet and probably wouldn’t mix well with the taste of blood. Dark chocolate’s better for pairing with strong flavors–”

“Bea, _stop._ ” It came out much more a plea than a command.

“Does this mean we need to test how sweet my blood is another time?”

Much to Beel’s misfortune, he would find soon enough how uncomfortable Bea’s defensive humor could get.


End file.
